Desperate Measures
by ThePossibilityOfMagic
Summary: It was like they said- desperate times called for desperate measures. And right now, there was something Kate Beckett wanted. Desperately.


_Hey, so here's a little something that has been lying around in my Caskett folder for a while, and though I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it, I figured that it was probably time to set it free. So technically it's pre-Caskett-hookup, but you could probably view it as established Caskett if you prefer._

_Anyhow, it's pretty random, but I hope you like it. _

* * *

"I want Castle."

Hazel eyes stared back at her from the mirror, their expression stark and deadly serious, clear and resolute.

"_I want Castle," _she repeated, her voice stronger this time, each word clearly enunciated. Straightening her shoulders, she stared down her reflection, letting nothing but those three words occupy her thoughts. Nothing mattered more to her right now than those words, and she would say them over and over until the message got through.

Before she could open her mouth once more, however, another voice intruded in on her thoughts, one that was deep, male, and unfamiliar.

"Mr Castle is right next door. As of the moment, you are both simply persons of interest to the CIA. You can be assured that no harm will come to him."

As the intercom fell silent, she stepped even closer to the two-way mirror that dominated almost an entire wall of her interrogation room, her eyes narrowing as if she could see straight through her own reflection to the agents gathered beyond.

"Yeah, well considering our track record with your agency, you'll have to forgive me if I'm not exactly willing to believe a single goddamn word you say," she answered sharply, feeling the anger– and overwhelming worry– bubbling beneath the surface of her skin, a roiling mass that she could barely keep contained. Logically, she knew that the CIA were supposed to be the good guys, that they were all fighting on the same side– but right now, she didn't really give a damn about logic.

The memory of Sophia's gun pressed to Castle's head was still far too fresh to ignore.

Taking a deep breath, she looked away, attempting to regain her usual unshakeable attitude, regather her control. _Focus, Beckett. Negotiate._

But she couldn't. She couldn't concentrate, couldn't bring herself to find a way to reason with these people. All she could think about was the mental image of Castle as she'd last seen him– confused, disheveled, and being forcibly subdued by a trio of black-suited agents. If he was okay, he'd be going crazy worrying about her right now. And if he _wasn't_ okay...

Spinning sharply to face the mirror once more, she took a swift step forward and slammed a palm hard against the glass, the entire pane vibrating in its frame.

"Listen to me, you smug, suit-wearing jackass," she spat furiously, "If you want me to cooperate, you'll bring him to me. I want him in here, now!"

The intercom voice remained steady, flat, clearly unruffled by her small show of temper.

"I'm afraid that's not possible."

Clenching her teeth, Beckett gave a small, hard nod.

"Then I'm afraid you should have cuffed me."

With that, she turned her back on the mirror, reaching the interrogation table in two short, sharp strides. Her hands closing tightly around one of the typical, utilitarian style chairs– forged of heavy steel to prevent any possibility of being dismantled and used as a weapon – she swiftly lifted it, crossing the room to shove it against the door, lodging it securely beneath the doorknob, effectively sealing all agents outside.

A split second later, various rattles and thumps echoed from the door, as well as the muffled sound of raised voices and shouted commands. Regardless of their efforts, however, the door stood firm.

With a small smirk, Beckett turned back to the table once more, her pace unhurried as she approached the remaining chair. Then, hefting it so she was able to carry it comfortably– despite its heavy weight– she returned to her initial position by the mirror.

Raising her eyebrows, she addressed her reflection.

"Bring Castle to me," she said levelly, her tone completely reasonable, a polite threat. "I won't ask again."

Again the voice came over the intercom. "Detective Beckett–"

She didn't bother to let him finish. Gripping the chair hard, she swiftly drew back, then swung it forcefully against the glass, throwing her entire bodyweight behind the movement.

_Crack._

The entire pane shuddered, a small fracture line now visible at the point of contact. Immediately the struggles outside the door grew louder, more insistent, but Beckett paid them little attention.

Gripping the chair again, she readied herself for another swing.

"Detective Beckett, stand down–"

_Crack_.

This time, the collision proved much more effective– an extensive spiderweb of cracks radiated out from her impact point, her reflection now slightly distorted as it looked back at her, defiance and determination clear in its gaze.

One more good hit, and the whole thing would shatter. Gritting her teeth, Beckett lifted the chair once more, ignoring the protests from her sore muscles and bruised palms. Planting her feet solidly on the concrete floor, she began to draw back– but paused as the voice burst once more over the intercom, no longer cool and unruffled, but breathless and sharp-edged.

"Stop! Stand down, detective. Mr Castle is being brought in right now."

Lowering the chair, Beckett glanced at the door, listening as two sharp knocks suddenly echoed around the room. Turning her gaze back toward the mirror, she lifted her chin, her eyes fierce, challenging.

"You try to pull anything, and I swear to god I will not stop fighting until you are forced to shoot me," she swore, her gaze fixed on the mirror, her glare cold and piercing. "And when you do, you can answer to the entirety of the NYPD."

With that, she released the chair, dropping it back to the floor with a resounding _clang_. Then, moving towards the door, she stood off to one side, using the wall to shield her body.

"Castle?" she called, keeping her cheek pressed to the cool concrete of the wall. This could easily be a trap, some attempt to subdue her, perhaps restrain her and move her further away from Castle.

She sure as hell wasn't going to let that happen.

After a moment, though, she heard the one sound she'd been desperate to hear since the very moment she'd woken in that cold steel chair.

"Kate?"

His voice was muffled by the door, but it was definitely him. That much she knew with certainty. Even were she deaf, she would probably still somehow recognise that voice.

Tensing her entire body– because this was the moment of truth, the moment where they either honored their end of the agreement or unleashed all kinds of hell both her and themselves– she quickly yanked the chair out from where it was wedged under the knob, then instantly took three swift paces backward, placing herself with her back to the corner of the room. Still holding the chair in front of her body– she would certainly make use of it if she had to– she watched as the door opened and Castle stumbled through, his eyes finding hers just as the door was slammed shut and locked once more.

Dropping the chair, Beckett swiftly covered the distance between them, hands lifting as she reached for him. One gripped his lapel tightly, the other curving around his bicep as his own hands closed around her elbows, steadying her both physically and emotionally.

Looking up at him, she searched his face, seeking any sign of pain or injury.

Taking a deep breath, she asked softly, "You okay?"

Castle gave a small nod, his blue eyes fixed to hers. "Yeah. Nothing more than a couple of bruises. You?"

She shook her head slightly. "No damage."

Lifting his brows, he shifted his gaze to focus on something over her left shoulder, his expression almost amused.

"I wouldn't exactly say that."

Glancing back at the mirror, Beckett fought the urge to blush.

"They wouldn't let me see you," she explained, feeling almost sheepish. "I had to... I had to force their hand."

Catching her eye once more, Castle grinned down at her. "And there I was, offering bribes and threatening them with the Mayor's displeasure. Seems incredibly unimpressive in comparison."

Beckett grinned teasingly. "Hey, we all have our own methods."

"I like yours better. Think they're gonna be pissed?"

Beckett bit her lip, trying to look appropriately serious. "A little bit, yeah."

"I hoped you'd say that," he said happily, then turned slightly, one hand shifting to place gentle pressure at her waist. "Come on, if there's going to be a show, we should really have front row seats."

Grinning, she allowed her hands to drop, watching as he stepped towards one of the discarded chairs, lifting it with far more ease than she had. Then, his eyes finding hers, he gave a small tilt of his head, indicating towards the table. Following along behind him, she claimed the other chair, then deposited it beside his, both directly facing the door.

Slipping into her seat, Beckett shifted her chair slightly closer to his, their thighs and shoulders brushing. Settling her hands on the tabletop, she stared at them for a moment before speaking softly.

"Castle?"

"Yeah?"

Her eyes still fixed on her hands, she bit her lip, her voice slightly wry. "I'm sorry for always dragging you into situations like this."

At her words, Castle let out a small, amused huff, then– to her surprise– simply reached out and wrapped his large hand around hers, his thumb softly brushing back and forth over her knuckles. Startled, she glanced up at him, her breath hitching slightly at the look in his eyes, his expression both playful and tender.

Giving her a small smile, he squeezed her hand gently.

"Wouldn't ever want to be anywhere else."

Feeling her cheeks warm slightly, she gave his hand a small, shy squeeze in return, her skin tingling under his touch.

Looking away before she did something stupid– like kissing him in a CIA interrogation room with probably a dozen agents watching, for example– she fixed her eyes on the door before them, but didn't withdraw her hand, her fingers remaining intertwined with his.

Then, united and unbreakable, the two partners simply sat and waited, knowing that– no matter what came through that door– they would be able to handle it.

As long as they were together, Beckett knew, they could survive anything.

* * *

_A little cheesy and potentially OOC, perhaps, but damn if I don't have a thing for badass Beckett. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!_

_And remember, all comments/suggestions for improvement are welcome! :)_

_I'd also just like to say that because my schedule has been a lot more hectic this year (and is only getting worse) I unfortunately can't keep replying to every review– which sucks, really, because I loved writing back to you guys. I'm still going to reply to some, but sadly I just don't have the time to do it for all of them. So to anyone who doesn't get a reply from me, just know that I love and appreciate your comments and I'm grateful that you took the time to leave them._

_Anyhow, as always, thanks for reading!_

_-Laura_


End file.
